


Dirty Dealings

by MikeWritesThings (orphan_account)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gangsters, Drugs, Gang War, Human AU, Human AU-Gangs, Other, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, War, Yaoi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-22
Updated: 2015-06-01
Packaged: 2018-03-14 12:02:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 9
Words: 15,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3409844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/MikeWritesThings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The city is run and owned by eight Families, dividing them up evenly between each, otherwise known as 'territories.'</p><p>Despite having dividing the territories fairly, crimes break out- Wars, theft, assassinations and murders of other Families.<br/>Alliances are formed as well as rivalries, and if you make one wrong move, you could be dead or have a whole Family against yours.</p><p>We have the clever Mediterranean Family, the cunning Asian Family, the frightening Russian Family, the artistic Roman Family, the strong German Family, the underestimated Nordic Family, the slick French Family,  and the wild English Family.</p><p>Dirty dealings and secrets, gangs and theft and murder- It's all connected somehow and Heracles is just one of the many stuck in the middle of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The man walked through the crowd, shoulder brown hair swaying slightly in the harsh, cold winds blowing through the busy and crowded, densely populated city in which he was following two people-Two young men, both walking in a similar fashion. Their footsteps were in sync with each other and they seemed to be casually talking to one another as one ran his hand through his silvery locks and the others continued talking. People bustled past, eyes sliding right over the tall man and not even sparing him a second glanced as they rushed to schools, to work, to shops, to meetings, not even bothering to say "sorry" or "excuse me." To tourists or people not from large cities this may seem rude, but those who lived in the city- More specifically, this territory- Knew that kindness was not to be expected out on the streets, and neither was mere politeness.

After about fifteen to twenty minutes of walking or so, the man being sure to always stay half a block behind the two men and allow his eyes to scan the crowd for any obvious person or persons, or any suspicious figures watching from afar, but he did not. Adjusting the checkered white-and-blue scarf over his green coat, the green-eyed-man watched as the younger of the two bent down to tie his shoe and the man took this as his signal. He began walking a little faster, shoes stomping against the rough cement sidewalk and elbowing past people. people did not complain- They were far used to this kind of thing in the busy streets of the city. The man passed by the two young men, both dressed in navy blue coats, without so much as sparing them a glance.

The man continued walking, feeling the wind hit his face and beat it pink. His green eyes scanned the crowd and he continued to casually walk, not stopping for even a second. He pretended to just be another person walking the streets to go to work or to a shop or something- He walked casually and smoothly, as if he really had no plan where he was going and was just walking just to walk. He glanced towards the sky, making a dull note of the weather, as the sky was a cloudy gray- if it rained it might be a little harder to act casual. A lot of people would resort to darting inside buildings until the rain cleared over, and it would be harder to blend into the crowd if there wasn't really a crowd there. Taking note of this concern, the man then paused to stare at a display of stuffed cats- The two young men about a hundred feet behind sped up slightly, passing by silently.

The man continued to stare until they were out of peripheral vision and turned back to continue walking down the sidewalk, carefully tailing the men and at the same time checking for any people that might be following. The man's trained eyes scanned the crowd and they locked onto a single person- A man a bit taller than he, with dark brown hair and the most noticeable feature was a smooth white mask that covered his eyes. Not even pausing or hesitating in his steps, the man kept walking as if he had seen nothing, but his neck prickled as he felt the man's eyes on him as annoyance surged through him, making him want to scream and punch and yell at the man until he went away.

Stupid Sadiq, the man thought to himself, Does he not trust me? Ha, of course he doesn't. I can handle this myself. Or does he believe not capable of doing so? He's going to jeopardize this whole thing. Shaking the rough thoughts aside, the man walked a little faster, eyes locking on the two backs that were currently almost to their agreed destination- A small cafe that was rather expensive and a little crowded, yet served well for their purpose of meeting. When the man finally reached the destination, he walked inside and looked towards the menu casually before allowing his eyes to scan the crowd and spotted the two young men whom he had been tailing. He feigned a look of convincing surprise and walked over, saying,

"Lukas, Emil, I didn't know you guys would be here! Long time no see!"

His voice came out a little sleepy and bored as always and he blinked at the two brothers, the shorter of the two eating a slice of pie he had no doubt just bought and the older sipping idly from a cup of black coffee that he set down once the man had made his presence known. The older of the two, a platinum blonde man by the name of Lukas who had as much facial expressions as brick wall, pursed his lips slightly and then forced them into a slightly strained smile.

"You too, Heracles. Do join us."

"Gladly," the Greek man said, sliding a chair back and nestling himself comfortably into the seat, "This cafe does look really good, don't you? Albeit a little expensive, however, it looks delicious. Is that pie any good, Emil?"

The younger, a silver-haired boy with strangely colored violet eyes, paused with a forkful of his berry pie to his mouth and lowered the fork for a moment before nodding, resuming taking his bite of his bakery delicacy. Heracles smiled and mentally compared him to one of his cats- Unsure, untrusting, new to it all. It was quite distracting for him to imagine the younger brother with a pair of cat ears but it brought a humorous lift to his voice.

"So, what are you two here for? Or did you just happen to feel like grabbing a slice of pie?"

"Oh, we came here to discuss business with somebody," Lukas said casually, tone light, "But he seems to be running a little late. Pardon me, but I have to be excused so I can use the bathroom."

"That's fine- I had a drink myself on the way here and my bladder is rather full," Heracles said, getting to his feet as well as Lukas and smiling down at Emil. "Do take care of yourself, Emil."

The two men made their way to the bathroom, careful not to bump into each other. The ear piece curled around Heracles's ear was all he needed for this meeting- Though Lukas did not know of it's existence, and he intended to keep it that way. The men nodded to each other politely and entered the bathroom, checking the stalls to see if they were empty. After confirming they were, Lukas pulled a key from a side pocket and inserted it into a lock, hearing it click. As soon as it did, the two dropped all formalities and faced each other, faces no longer casual and friendly but serious.

"Alright, Karpusi. Let's talk about what we came here for-Business."

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you~

I do not own Hetalia or the characters used for this story.

Heracles Karpusi- Greece

Lukas Bondevik- Norway

Emil Steilsson- Iceland

Sadiq Adnan- Turkey


	2. Business

Heracles raised an eyebrow in amusement at the shorter man, the corners of his mouth quirking upwards into a smirk and he shoved his hands inside his pockets, one hand fiddling with a piece of loose thread that had come undone inside his pocket.

"Straightforward, aren't you?" Heracles asked with a hint of amusement in his voice, staring down at the much shorter and slightly younger man, whose indigo eyes seemed to lack any shine at and held no emotion- One of the few things that made him dangerous. But Heracles had learned not to underestimate anybody- Even the Nordics, who were one of the most underestimated Houses in the city.

"Well, I came here for one purpose only, and I do not intend to stay here longer than needed," Lukas said coolly, shoving his own hands deep into his pockets and refusing to break eye contact with Heracles. Heracles did the same, Sadiq's voice ringing in his ears. 'Eye contact is important.'

"Well then, let's get down to business then, enough chatter," Heracles said, smiling. Lukas took a breath, then glanced around as if truly confirming the two were alone. Just in case, they retreated farther into the large bathroom, lowering their voices to a whisper in case somebody was standing outside the door.

"It's been a recent concern that the Germans have decided to ally themselves with the Romans," Lukas said, brows furrowing. Heracles smirked.

"This is a danger how?"

"Let me think," Lukas said, pausing and mocking curiosity, "They have an intelligence officer, Roderich, one of the best at his job. They have two capable guards, Vash and Elizaveta. That's just the Germans. The Romans have the Vargas's. All three of them. And Carriedo. Carriedo is a problem."

"I was aware that Vargas is currently fatally ill?" Heracles asked, raising an eyebrow, "All the power will be left to Lovino, yes?"

"Wrong," Lukas snapped, "Feliciano, and this is going to cause problems."

Heracles paused. This could indeed, be a problem. Every reason that this could go wrong raced through his head and he shook it to clear it- He never tried to think much, at least while during a meeting. He saved all the thinking for later in his office.

"Not many people are going to like that," He finally said.

"No, I don't think so," Lukas nodded, agreeing with the Greek man. "If and when Vargas dies there will certainly be a rebellion."

"Perhaps Carriedo can go in place of Feliciano?" Heracles suggested, running a hand through his hair and focusing on Lukas's eyes, trying to detect something in them but gathering nothing.

"Carriedo, while being a better and wiser choice, will also strike a rebellion. Bigger, perhaps, as he is not blood relative," Lukas said, looking as if he had already considered this option.

"But I do not see how this will effect us?" 

"Because if the Roman House were to fall into chaos, then it could affect the German House as well in attempt to aid them," Lukas's upper lip curled slightly in a sneer and he added, "Not to mention that Sadiq is seemed to be on friendly terms with the intelligence, and that could be vital to you if one of your sources was just cut off."

"Correction, I am the one on friendly terms with Roderich," Heracles corrected, "One intelligence agent to the other. However, I have yet to see how this problem is any concern to your House?"

"Do you not remember our alliance?" Lukas asked, eyebrows raising and the first sign of any emotion flickering into his eyes- a slight sign of nervousness.

"Our alliance is very strained, thank you very much," Heracles said, smiling pleasantly as Sadiq had taught him. Though he despised listening to the man, his lessons were vital- keep smiling, don't give away anything. It was as good as a facade as Lukas's emotionless face.

"I am well aware the alliance is currently strained what with our bosses-ah- differences," Lukas said slowly and carefully, "But the alliance still stands, does it not?"

"Indeed it does."

"Right," Lukas confirmed, "So back to how this affects the Nordics. Due to our alliance with the Mediterraneans, you pass information you learn from the German House due to the pact. And that is to say, this information is a lot."

"It is."

"And we use this information to supply ourselves with weapons and technology from the Asian House, and to do that we need information. If our sources were to be cut off, then that would put us in quite the position," Lukas said, his eyes resuming to their normal look. Heracles thought about it for a moment, thinking hurriedly before saying,

"I thought Tino was on friendly terms with Ludwig, was he not?"

"Yes, but neither Tino nor Ludwig are intelligence officers," Lukas said, raising a brow, "I am and you are, if you have forgotten. And neither of us are to be underestimated."

Heracles was taken aback a bit by the last part, but he nodded. "Right, none of us are to be underestimated."

"Which brings us to the borders. The Russians are at it again with trying to extend their borders well over ours," Lukas said, shifting his position slightly and clasping his hands behind his back, his platinum hair flopping over his right eye. Heracles blinked, processing the information, then shook his head.

"We both know the Russians are crazy."

"They are," Lukas murmured, "And the fact that they ally with the Asians as well could take quite a toll on us."

"And what are you asking from me?" Heracles asked, raising a brow.

"The usual- Protection if we cross to your territory, aid if you can offer it, standard supply supplement, etc., the usual alliance pact," Lukas said, shrugging. "This is all, of course, comes straight from Matthias himself, and I disagree with him strongly."

Heracles raised both eyebrows at this, extracting his hands out of his pockets. "How so?"

"Well, I don't trust the Mediterraneans, simple as that," Lukas replied, shrugging, a look of carelessness on his face. "Except you, Herc."

Lips quirking upwards at the old nickname, Heracles smiled and said, "You trust me?"

"I do. If I did not, I would not be standing here, would I? Any concerns that you want to raise?"

"Yes," Heracles nodded, "Kirkland's heir."

Lukas stared at him for a second. Then an uncharacteristically sly smile reached his lips. "What about him?"

"The fact that he is so incapable of being the Head of the English House raises a few concerns, however you didn't hear it from me," Heracles said, brushing a stray lock of brown hair out of his eyes, "I see no problem with Alfred and Sadiq is just being a worry bitch again."

"Hmm. I see. Well I really have no information on that," Lukas said, "However, I do have information involving Bella and Lars."

"Perhaps another time," Heracles said, checking his watch, "You'll have to give me a call between nine and eleven tonight. I do believe we've been in this bathroom for an awfully long time and I'd hate to leave your dear brother alone for too long."

"Ah, have the hours changed already? It's only been a month."

"You know how paranoid Gupta gets," Heracles said, rolling his eyes. "Honestly."

"Right," Lukas said, nodding. "And Herc?"

"Yes?" Heracles asked, adjusting the checkered scarf that wrapped tightly around his neck.

"We do trust each other, correct?"

The corner of Heracles's mouth twitched. "Of course."

Lukas smiled before his face turned straight and blank again, "Then I trust you'll tell your sniper to get out of range at once as to not have Tino shoot him if I do not give him the command not to in the next five minutes?"

Heracles's eyes widened and his jaw snapped open for a moment before he shut it, eyes wide and staring at the shorter man. There was no way he could have known about Stefan. Or could he? The little sly bitch. Sadiq was always right in never underestimating anybody. Especially the Nordics and Asians. Yes, those two were to never be underestimated.

"I'm waiting. I have three guards ready if you try anything, as I'm sure you will have been hoping to do," Lukas said, mouth twisting into a smile, "I am rather fond of Emil. Sharp eyes he had, I don't know what I would do without him. The only reason he's not a snipe himself is an incapability to stay still for longer than a few minutes."

"Why would you think we would want to take you out?" Heracles asked steadily. Lukas paused, as if thinking, then the smile dropped.

"I know too much. Don't you think?"

Heracles's mouth quirked into a smile again. "I agree completely. I'll have you know this was entirely on Sadiq's orders."

"I don't believe you capable of ordering an attack on one of your closest friends and allies, Herc," Lukas added, smirking. Heracles grinned and adjusted the communications device, saying, 

"Stefan, hold fire. Go home."

"What?" Came the reply in the ear piece.

"You've been spotted, and Tino's watching you. Back out."

A curse was hissed into his ear and the line went dead. Heracles and Lukas stared at each other for a moment before crossing to the bathroom door and opening it, stepping out into the bustling cafe. They walked over to where Emil was sitting, an empty plate in front of him as well as a mug. He glanced up at Lukas then shot a questioning glance towards Heracles.

"Don't worry, he's called them off," Lukas said reassuringly. Emil's worried face relaxed instantly and he sipped from the mug, calming his nerves. It reminded Heracles of when a cat relaxed after a fight. Lukas turned to face Heracles. "You sure we were not followed?"

"Yes," Heracles said, no hesitance in his voice as he refocused on the older of the brothers, not wavering his gaze from the other's.

"Hmm," Lukas said, humming, eyes bright, "Well tell Sadiq if he can't trust his own intelligence officer on his own what makes him think he can trust anybody for an alliance?"

Heracles blinked then grinned widely, shoving his hands back in his pockets. "I'll be sure to pass along the message, you have my word."

"All is well, then." Lukas extended a hand out to Heracles and he shook it, barely breaking eye contact. Lukas turned to Emil, who retracted slightly under his brother's faze as he said in a low voice,

"You can put the gun away now."

Heracles startled slightly but kept his composure as he cast his eyes down, fear fluttering slightly in his throat as he looked at the small teen. There, clutched firmly in the younger's hand, was a small gun, pointed at his leg and with his finger pressed dangerously close to the trigger. Heracles glanced back up to look at Emil and saw the face he once saw resembling a little kitten's was hardened and his eyes were dangerous.

Heracles smiled an shook hands with Emil, being cautious as to not imply he was trying to make a threat of any kind. The three left the cafe and departed ways- Lukas and Emil headed down the street as to take a shortcut back to their House and Heracles paused, eyes scanning the street for the book shop he was supposed to meet Gupta at so he could pick him up.

It had been an interesting exchange of information, and Heracles had learned a very important fact-

Nobody was ever to be underestimated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Names used~
> 
> Heracles Karpusi- Greece
> 
> Lukas Bondevik- Norway
> 
> Emil Steilsson- Iceland
> 
> Matthias Kolher- Denmark
> 
> Tino Vainamoinen- Finland
> 
> Sadiq Adnan- Turkey
> 
> Antonio Carriedo- Spain
> 
> (Grandpa) Vargas- Grandpa Rome
> 
> Lovino Vargas- S.Italy/Romano
> 
> Feliciano Vargas- N.Italy/Veneziano
> 
> Ludwig Beilschmidt- Germany
> 
> Roderich Edelstein- Austria
> 
> Vash Zwingli- Switzerland
> 
> Elizaveta Hedevary- Hungary
> 
> Gupta Muhammad Hassan- Egypt
> 
> Stefan Karpusi- Cyprus
> 
> Arthur Kirkland- England
> 
> Alfred F. Jones- America
> 
> Bella Anderrsen- Belgium
> 
> Lars Anderrsen- Netherlands


	3. Discussing

"So what did you gather from your meeting with our friends from the Northern part of town?" Sadiq asked, looking over at Heracles over the brim of his coffee mug, eyebrows raised and his eyes hidden behind his mask. Scowling at his Head's choice in the bitter drink, Heracles folded his arms across the table and responded,

"That Lukas Bondevik and Emil Steilsson are stronger than they look. And also about a thousand times more clever. And are certainly severely underestimated."

"I knew this already," Sadiq drawled with a lazy wave of his hand, "This shouldn't be so surprising anymore. I mean, look at Stefan. You would never suspect anything, would you?"

"And that is why I am one of the best," Stefan's voice said from behind Heracles and the younger man walked in, shrugging off his dark green hoodie and discarding it onto the table, "You would have thought you would have stopped underestimating people by know, Herc."

"I don't underestimate them, I just wasn't suspecting it, I thought we had them good," Heracles protested, "And besides, I was kind of hoping he would figure it out soon."

Sadiq sighed and lowered his mug, raising his eyes towards the heavens as he asked, "And why would you wish such a thing against your Head's specific orders?"

"Because Lukas is a friend and a valuable source of information, and besides, even you are fond of his younger brother, Emil," Heracles replied coolly.

"I would have you kicked to the streets for disobeying me like that if I didn't know you had never outgrown your rebellious teen phase," Sadiq murmured darkly, eyeing Heracles. Heracles smirked and Stefan gave a small chuckle. "So what did you actually learn from this meet?"

"To not try and assassinate Lukas and Emil," Heracles muttered under his breath and then spoke up, "Mostly stuff we already knew. The Germans and the Romans allying, Jones being Kirkland's heir. Did you know that the heir to Vargas is Feliciano?"

Sadiq paused in taking a sip from his coffee and stared at Heracles for a long moment. Stefan shot both of them a curious look and slid a dining chair back, nestling himself comfortably onto it and propping his elbows on the table.

"This certainly raises a few concerns," Sadiq remarked, bringing the mug to his lips and drinking the bittersweet liquid.

"It does," Stefan agreed, tapping his fingers on the oak table and brushing the noticeably longer side of his hair out of his face, "I thought Lovino was older?"

"He is," Sadiq murmured, face shadowing, "And it's never really been a secret that Vargas favors Feliciano over Lovino. Well, at least, it's been obvious to me, but to go as far as to claim him heir?"

"Lukas suggested Carriedo would be a suitable replacement," Heracles said, as one of his cats slunk into the room, a gray tabby with it's eyes half-lidded. It leaped onto Heracles' lap and he began stroking it, listening to it purr.

"Carriedo would be a preferable replacement if it wasn't Lovino," Sadiq agreed, tracing the brim of his mug with his finger, his forehead creasing, "But I think that would strike a retaliation as Carriedo is not blood-related to Vargas. The heirs of the Roman House have always been blood-related as far back as I can remember."

"Yes, well speaking of non-blood-related heirs, Jones is the heir of Kirkland, and, according to Lukas, incapable of being the Head of any House," Heracles informed him, scratching the cat behind it's ears. The cat pressed it's paws against his stomach and yawned.

"Jones? Why not Liam? Or Jett? I don't understand why Alfred is the heir. He's not blood-related," Sadiq asked sharply, "The Kirklands have always kept to their blood line. Always. This is something Gupta told me. They have been handing it down to Kirklands who carry the family name for well over seventy years now."

"Arthur seems to think he made a right choice in selecting Alfred as his heir, but then again, when have the Kirklands been known for good choices?" Stefan sighed, sitting back in his seat, "I mean, Rhys freaking handed the spot of heir to Arthur rather than Cameron."

"Cameron is older and had the right to heir-ship, yet here he is, stuck as a bodyguard," Sadiq sighed, shaking his head, "I wondered what the fuck Rhys was thinking when he did that. But I think Cameron turned down the offer when his sons were born."

"I would have said Liam or Jett would have been heirs, but if not Harri," Stefan said.  
"Harri left the day Maeve was shot and killed, Stefan," Heracles sighed, stroking the cat slowly and watching it curl up tightly.

"Still, though, why Jones? Why not just give it to Liam? Actually, considering both are reckless and stubborn, Jett?" Stefan asked.

"I don't know what Arthur sees in Jones, but hopefully, it'll prove good once he actually gets into the position of Head, or otherwise the English House is fucked," Sadiq murmured.

"They've been fucked ever since the skirmish with the Asian House," Heracles yawned, "Yao and Arthur have been fighting for decades, and no doubt that Jones will ruin what tiny little friendship they may have developed over Leon."

"That fight ended a year ago, I'm pretty sure even if they HAD formed a tiny fake-friendship, any evidence of that has been obliterated," Sadiq said, rolling his eyes.

"Well this is still a hell of a hellhole to be stuck in right now," Stefan groaned, "Maybe if the English and the Asians stopped fighting then we could ALL get along better, but if you ally with the English, your the Asian's enemy, and vice versa."

"Well life would still be a hellhole because of who we are, we can't change that," Heracles pointed out to the younger man, "And I'm pretty sure even if we had normal lives, we live in this city."

"And this city has problems," Sadiq supplied.

"Yes, exactly, this city has problems," Stefan said, shaking his head, "And the Russians are one of them. They're planning to overtake the Nordics' border."

"How did you know that?" Heracles asked, frowning,

"Duh, you had your mic on. I can hear, ya know."

"Okay, whatever," Heracles frowned again as the cat leaped off his lap and stretched out on the floor, kneading it's paws on the ground before scampering away.

"The Russians want to overtake the Nordics' border?" Sadiq blinked. "Well, we always knew they were crazy."

"Yes, but the thing is, the Russians can actually pull these kinds of things off," Heracles sighed, yawning and wishing he could just go to sleep right there.

"And the thing is, everybody is terrified of the Russians. Most, anyways," Sadiq frowned, "The Germans more have a rivalry and the Nordics....The Nordics share the Northern side of town and I'm pretty sure they're used to this kind of crap right now....But that doesn't mean we shouldn't offer aid?"

"We offer aid when they need it," a voice said from behind Stefan, and they glanced over to see Gupta standing there, arms crossed, "Don't be supplying them just yet."

"I know that," Sadiq scowled, "Don't you have a post to be at?"

"I know, but I let Emre take over for me," Gupta shrugged, "And it's almost Lukerise's turn anyways."

"Your not being a very good bodyguard," Sadiq said with a joking lift to his voice.

"And I wouldn't be a very good trainer if I didn't give Emre first-hand experience."

"Ah, I see," Sadiq nodded, inclining his head to the man, "Well then, shouldn't you be assisting Emre?"

"Emre can handle without me."

"The kid is thirteen, Gupta. Thirteen."'

Gupta shrugged.

"So? I was learning the difference between cyanide and rat poison by the time I was eight."

"Well, we can all agree you had a screwed up childhood," Stefan said, and the other three laughed.

"No, seriously though, go out there and watch over Emre, I don't trust that kid with an AK-47 yet," Sadiq said once their laughter had cleared up.

Gupta sighed and turned to leave. Heracles, tired of talking, stood up and stretched, feeling each limb pop into place and he looked down at the two.

"I'm tired, I'm kind to go take a nap, and whatever I've forgotten to say will be brought up tomorrow, though I kind of doubt it."

"Knowing you, you will have always forgotten something," Sadiq said, rolling his eyes. Heracles took this chance to flip him off before exiting the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> Thank you~  
> ~Names used~  
> Heracles Karpusi- Greece  
> Sadiq Adnan- Turkey  
> Gupta Muhammad Hassan- Egypt  
> Emre Adnan- Turkish Republic of Northern Cyprus (TRNC)  
> Lukas Bondevik- Norway  
> Emil Steilsson- Iceland  
> Alfred F. Jones- America  
> Arthur Kirkland- England  
> Cameron Kirkland- Scotland  
> Liam Kirkland- Australia  
> Jett Kirkland- New Zealand  
> Harri Kirkland- Northern Ireland  
> Maeve Kirkland- Ireland  
> Rhys Kirkland- Wales (deceased)  
> (Grandpa)Vargas- (Grandpa) Rome  
> Lovino Vargas- S.Italy/Romano  
> Feliciano Vargas- N.Italy/Veneziano  
> Antonio Fernandez Carriedo- Spain  
> Yao Wang- China  
> Leon Wang- Hong Kong


	4. Visit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~

If there was anything Alfred F. Jones loved more than the delicious, sizzling patties on a grill being freshly flipped and placed on a nice, toasted, buttered bun with just the right amount of ketchup and mustard and pickle relish on it, it was parties.

If there was anything Arthur Kirkland could not stand anymore than the disgusting processed meat of fatness dumped onto a piece of buttery cheap bread smothered in an unnecessary amount of ketchup and mustard and pickle relish, it was parties.

If there was anything the two of them could disagree more on than the delicious (disgusting) American food of Hamburgers (McDonald's specifically) it was the fact that Alfred liked going to parties and Arthur despised it. Alfred just couldn't help it; he was twenty years old, young, fresh, full of wild energy that threatened to burst at some points and he needed to fuel that energy into something excitable-An excellent party with good beats and alcohol. And the plus side was that there was usually hamburgers there.

Arthur Kirkland was about fifteen years older and way more mature. So he told himself. As Head of the English House, he had an image to maintain, and getting drunk at some wild party was not going to do anything to maintain it. No, he would be the laughing stock of the city. Which he already was, but he would rather not get into that now. The point was, the heir was too fond of going to parties and gambling money and drinking beer and eating those fattening burgers that it made him wonder sometimes if Alfred was the right choice for heir. But other times he knew that he was the right choice. The only right choice, unless he could give the responsibility of heir to Liam, but he knew if he was anything like his father he would not want the responsibility of Headship.

Alfred did not like to show it but he was a very hard-worker, getting the House places where Arthur would usually struggle with and doing his best to defend the others when they made their business with the cocaine dealers at the docks. He was slick and smooth when he wanted to be, not always rough and wild and bumpy at the edges. He was smart and had the makings of an excellent Head once he put his mind to it. And Liam would be a good advisor, for he was young and always exploring, and that meant he knew the do's and don't's a bit better than Alfred did. together, the two would drive the English House to success. Jett and Maeve would be there to keep the two of them in check, and Harri was in touch, saying he might possibly come back (might) to take care of Maeve. And the kid was a natural, always had been Cameron's favorite trainee.

Of course, Arthur would never admit that. Lord, no. It would be like telling Francis all those years ago that he was indeed good looking whenever the Frenchman asked him, and he wasn't going to admit that. he didn't need to, anyways, ever since that stupid blonde took Matthew, Brie, Antoinette, and Antoine away to form a House. How he managed to stay strong all these years with little support from everybody else and yet became one of the strongest Houses out there along with one of the best marijuana dealers, he didn't know. All he knew was that Francis had information on the English House and he could use it any day. He did, after all, used to be the intelligence officer, and Arthur cursed his damn softness from letting the Frenchman walk away without so much as a scratch.

If he could back in time, he would blow a bullet right through his fucking skull and bury him in the backyard next to Rhys and Thorton. of course, he wouldn't hurt the children. No, Antoinette and Antoine were only seven and nine then, and Matthew was a year younger than Alfred, five, and Brie was only nine months old. Now, fifteen years later, Arthur regretted letting Francis just walk away.

But back to the subject of Alfred.

It was nights like these when Arthur questioned if Alfred was really the right choice. He was wild. He played pranks. He was immature. He would surely drive the House into the ground, wouldn't he? But at the same time he was hard-working. Dedicated. Loyal. Youthful and full of vigor. But the American idiot had just gone out for a wild party wearing nothing but Captain America underpants and once again Arthur was questioning himself. He was about to come to a conclusion (finally!) when the door opened and Cameron walked in, eyes flickering over Arthur's shoulder to the window and back to look at him,

"There's a guest here to see you," he said slowly, green eyes flickering back out to the window, "It's very important. They say it is urgent."

"Ah, really?" Arthur asked, picking up on the hint and standing up, casually striding over to the windows and closing the curtains nonchalantly. "Tell them I will be down there soon enough."

"Okay," Cameron said, dipping his head and exiting the office. Arthur peeked through the curtains, squinting to make out anything in the black night but seeing nothing except the gleam of a car or two. He frowned and withdrew from the window, walking over to the drawer of his desk and sliding it open. he removed the false bottom to remove a small handgun and a box of ammo. Loading the gun and cocking it, he placed it carefully into his left pocket (as he was left-handed) and closed the drawer, making sure the handle of the gun was well concealed.

Arthur opened his office door and walked casually downstairs, smiling slightly as he saw a tall man seated on a love seat in the living room but cringing a bit on the inside. No. What was he doing here? He had made it clear he did not want to do business with him. But Arthur just kept smiling as he entered the living room, nodding to Cameron and Bruno, who nodded back and stepped out of the room, pressing themselves against the door with their hands on their guns just in case.

"Good evening, Ivan," Arthur said in a low tone to the Russian as he sat himself across from the Russian man, trying to soothe all of the irritated nerves racing through him as he stared at the childish, yet significantly taller man. The snowy-haired man glanced up with his unusually colored eyes and flashed a small smile, his hand fiddling ever so slightly with that damn pink scarf he always seemed to wear, no matter the weather or conditions. He might even wear it the beach, if the city had one or was on one, but Arthur shoved all these thoughts aside as Ivan reached out a gloved hand for him to shake. Accepting it, Arthur kept eye contact and tried not to flinch when Ivan glanced towards his pockets. However he did not say anything, just smiled and began,

"Hello, Arthur. This is a lovely evening, da?"

"Indeed it is, just a tad bit dark," Arthur replied back, glancing out the window that was to his direct left and noticing for the first time there was a car parked about a block down the road, but his attention was quickly diverted when Maeve bounced inside the room, carrying a tray of tea and her red braid swinging. Her eyes scanned the area and she quickly took it all in before setting the tray down and casting a look towards Ivan. After a moment she said,

"Interesting company tonight, Arthur."

"Yes, indeed," Arthur said, forcing a smile onto his face, "Why don;t you go upstairs to study, Maeve?"

"Nope," She said, and plopped down on the couch, crossing her arms and smiling at Ivan. Raising an eyebrow but choosing to say nothing, Ivan smiled back at Arthur, who was glaring at Maeve but she pretended not to notice. After a moment Arthur returned her attention back to Ivan and said,

"And to what do I owe this pleasure?"

"I would just like to discuss some business," Ivan said, tone light as he smiled, "Involving a possible alliance in trade, weapons and drugs, and possibly ask for a territorial extension."

"A territorial extension?" Arthur asked, eyebrows drawing together in surprise at such a straightforward demand. "No, I don't think so, Ivan. And I have already stated I am not interested in allying myself with your House, nor doing a drug trade."

"Yes, I am aware of that," Ivan said, nodding, smile slipping slightly, "And I-"

"Why bother asking when he just said he wasn't interested?" Maeve asked from her spot, her head resting a bit disinterestedly on the arm of the couch.

"Maeve." Arthur said sharply.

"No, it's okay," Ivan said, his smile now holding something a bit dangerous, "And why won't you ally yourself with me, Arthur?"

"I'm just not interested, you know, our families being old enemies, yada yada yada," Arthur sighed, examining his fingernails, a nervous tic causing his leg to bounce up and down slightly.

"Since when has anybody ever cared about old enemies? Karpusi and Bondevik are friends despite Adnan and Kølher," Ivan said pleasantly.

"If he said no, then he means no," came Maeve's voice from the couch, her eyes glaring at the taller man.

"Maeve," Arthur said slowly, green eyes finding her blue ones, "Why don't you go get us some tea?"

"I already brought in tea, like, five minutes ago," Maeve said, rolling her eyes and nodding her head to the tray that was balanced a little shakily on a stack of law books on the coffee table.

"Oh. Right." Arthur hissed, trying to channel venom and hints into the words without alerting Ivan, but the Russian was currently looking closely at a cup of tea before pouring about half a bottle of vodka into it. Maeve just shrugged and flashed him a glance. Sighing, Arthur said,

"Like I was saying, I am not interested in doing trade with you. Nor am I willing to do a territorial extension."

"And why not?"

"Because," Arthur said, choosing his words carefully, "I do not trust you and your House is extremely dangerous. I am not willing to align mine with yours in either a trade, territorial extension, or alliance in fear that any one of us could get hurt."

Ivan laughed. "I am not dangerous."

"You killed your own father."

"I did, da?" Ivan's eyes were hard as he stared at Arthur, the smile becoming more like one a hyena would give it's fresh catch, "But that means nothing, Kirkland."

"It does," Arthur said simply, "Now if that is all I would like to continue doing some work I have upstairs. Cameron will escort you out."

"I will eventually extend my territory over your North border," Ivan said, giving no sign he had heard Arthur, "And I will let you know now that we have already extending our borders of the Nordic's territory. Natalia made a nice shot yesterday and shot the intelligence officer."

Arthur swallowed the lump that had been forming in the back of his throat and nearly choked when Ivan mentioned Lukas had been shot. "And why did she shoot Lukas, may I ask?"

"Yeah, what did he ever do to you?" Maeve asked sharply. Arthur shot her a glare but Ivan said,

"Oh, a bit of a warning," Ivan smiled a bit gleefully at the look on her face. "Just to let them know we are serious about extending."

Arthur and Maeve stared for a moment before Arthur said,

"I am not interested."

"I insist."

"He said no, you son of a bitch," Maeve growled sharply.

"Maeve!" Arthur hissed, but Ivan was on his feet and aiming a gun between her eyes while one of her hands was clutching a pistol she had pulled from the folds of her coat, pressing the tip of it onto Ivan's chest as she glared forcefully into his eyes. Arthur had instinctively taken out his own gun and it was a mere inch from Ivan's skull, finger hovering over the trigger.

Ivan had knocked over the coffee table in his process of getting to hit feet, and the resoundung crash echoed around. Cameron burst into the room, gun pointing straight at Ivan's head as he growled swiftly,

"I'll see you to the door now, lad. One move and I blow your fucking brains out."

Ivan paused, lowering his gun slightly. Maeve spat onto his face and he flinched but he pocketed his gun without doing anything more than shooting her a glare as he approached Cameron. Cameron followed him out of the house, slamming the door behind him. As soon as he did, Arthur rounded on Maeve, glaring as he felt fury rise through him.

"What the hell do you think your doing?"

"Protecting you," Maeve said coolly, pocketing her gun and crossing her arms, "Haven't you heard of everything he's done?"

"That's not the point," Arthur snapped, "The point is, you put yourself in danger, and it was very stupid of you to do that."

Maeve glared at him before turning on her heel and stomping upstairs, her old gun wound causing her to limp slightly as she slammed her room door behind her.

Arthur sighed and sat back down on the couch as Cameron entered the house, slamming the door.

"What is it with you redheads and slamming my doors," Arthur muttered as he pressed his hands to his face.

"He's been seen out," was all Cameron said before turning to walk up the stairs. Arthur gave a slight groan as he pushed himself off the couch and walked over to the sliding door, taking a pack of cigars out of his pocket and lighting kt. He took a drag out of it as he stepped outside, puffing smoke out in front of his face as he did so. The wind caught it and blew it away as he took another drag, tapping to get the ash off of the end.

Arthur stared at the bright lights of cars going about their business on the highways behind the house when he heard somebody open the sliding door. He looked back to see a half-naked Alfred flashing him a groggy grin before falling over, completely drunk.

'This is my fucking heir. Excellent.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
> Is that how you smoke? O.o Idk XD
> 
> Names Used-
> 
> Arthur Kirkland- England
> 
> Alfred F. Jones- America
> 
> Liam Kirkland- Australia
> 
> Jett Kirkland- New Zealand
> 
> Maeve Kirkland- Ireland
> 
> Harri Kirkland- Northern Ireland
> 
> Francis Bonnefoy- France
> 
> Matthew Williams- Canada
> 
> Brie Williams- Seychelles
> 
> Antoinette Bonnefoy- Paris
> 
> Antoine Bonnefoy- New Caledonia
> 
> (New Caledonia is a French territory. :P if I want him here, I'll HAVE HIM HERE GODDAMMIT)
> 
> Cameron Kirkland- Scotland
> 
> Rhys Kirkland- Wales
> 
> Thorton Kirkland- (no direct country counterpart)
> 
> Bruno- (no direct country counterpart)
> 
> Ivan Braginsky- Russia
> 
> Sadiq Adnan-Turkey
> 
> Heracles Karpusi- Greece
> 
> Lukas Bondevik- Norway
> 
> Matthias Kølher-Denmark
> 
> Natalia Arlovskaya- Belarus


	5. Chapter 5

Heracles aimed the gun directly at the target and fired once, hitting dead center with a satisfying 'CLANG' as he blew a hole right through it. The shell of the bullet hit the ground as he fired another shot, the target swaying dangerously with each force of a bullet hitting it. He slowly exhaled each time his finger pressed onto the trigger and jumped slightly when he heard a younger voice say from behind him,

"You're a pretty good shot."

He turned his head to see Emre, Stefan's younger brother and Sadiq's adopted one. He was standing there with his head cocked curiously to the side, his own handgun held loosely in his right hand as he watched the older man with interest, Heracles lowered his gun and nodded his to acknowledge his presence before turning his attention back to the target.

"Could you teach me how to shoot?"

Heracles paused and look back at Emre, who's eyes had lit up hopefully as he had asked the question. There was a moment of silence, in which Heracles wondered if this was good idea before asking quietly,

"Is it okay with Gupta? And don't you already know how to shoot a gun?"

"I do," Emre said quickly, shuffling his feet awkwardly as his light brown eyes glanced over the target that was riddled with bullet holes, eyes swimming with grudging admiration, "But I want to know how to shoot better."

Heracles stared down at Emre, pondering if he should really do it. He didn't like Emre, at all, and Emre held a grudge against him as well for always getting into a fight with Sadiq, but when it came to this kid shooting a gun, he needed help in that area. Then again, he was a little wary that Emre could possibly turn his gun on him if he didn't oblige, so he let out a grudging sigh and nodded. The young teen stepped forward and positioned himself next to Heracles, clicking it into place and firing once. The bullet hit the wall next to the target.

"Steady your shoulders," Heracles informed him, "Don't keep your arms out so straight, bend at the elbows just a little."

Emre obeyed, bending his elbows and trying to keep his shoulders steady and firm as he fired again, jumping backwards slightly as the force rang through his body and caused him arms to vibrate. Heracles adjusted his elbows so they were bent slightly and not as straight out as they had previously been.

"Click the bullet into place," Heracles instructed, crouching down so he was at emre's shoulder and keeping his eye on the target, "Steady, aim-"

"I know what I'm doing!" Emre snapped, and fired the bullet once again, not recoiling as much this time as the force of the gun shooting the bullet blasted through his body. Heracles rolled his eyes and straightened up, waving a hand dismissively.

"Fine kid, whatever you say."

"I know what I need to do now, thanks," Emre said hotly, and Heracles had to refrain himself from retorting an 'Oh yeah?' Instead he set his gun down on the small table next to a soft chair and pulled out a rag from a pocket to clean the gun, but one of the women who usually worked in the kitchen rushed in, brushing her hands against her white apron.

"Karpusi, we just had an informant-One of the Nordics has been shot," She said, "I've been told to tell you that Lukas Bondevik was shot seven hours ago."

"Seven?" Heracles asked, brows constricting. That had to be a few hours just after their meeting ended. Then another question raced through his mind and he asked,

"What of Emil?"

"Er, they don''t know nothin' 'bout the younger one," The woman said, shrugging, "All I know is that I've been informed to tell you that he was shot."

"Thanks," Heracles sighed, rubbing his face with his hands. Crap, crap, crap, crap. One of his friends and most valuable resources had just gotten shot. Well that was simply fantastic. And they needed to exchange more information too-He really needed the info on Lars and Bella. Emre looked back curiously, not paying attention to where he was shooting at, and nearly killed a passerby man who was cleaning his gun.

"Someone was shot?"

"None of your concern," Heracles said sourly. The kid rolled his eyes and dropped his hands to his sides, stalking off,probably to annoy his elder brother Stefan. A question entered his mind once again and he stood up, exiting the shooting range and racing upstairs, where he almost crashed into Sadiq.

"What's the rush?" The older man asked.

"Lukas got shot seven hours ago," was all Heracles said before chasing after the woman who had told him this news. "Hey!"

She turned and he caught up to her, hands on his knees and panting slightly from running up two flights of stairs (from the basement into the second floor) and glanced up, asking,

"Who, exactly, did they say shoot him?"

The woman wiped her hands again on the maid, trying to remember, before she nodded and said,

"Ah, it was one of them from the Russian House. I can't remember the name."

"Ivan? Yekaterina? Toris?" Heracles listed, "Feliks?"

"Natalia," The woman said, snapping her fingers, "Natalia Arlovskaya."

Heracles froze.

That couldn't be good.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Names used:
> 
> Heracles Karpusi- Greece
> 
> Emre Adnan- TRNC
> 
> Gupta Muhammad Hassan- Egypt
> 
> Lukas Bondevik- Norway
> 
> Sadiq Adnan- Turkey
> 
> Ivan Braginsky- Russia
> 
> Yekaterina Braginskaya- Ukraine
> 
> Natalia Arlovskaya- Belarus


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~Notice: I said earlier that Maeve Kirkland (Ireland) was shot and killed, but that was a mistake, she's not dead.
> 
> Just to clear up any confusion!
> 
> Also, what names would you guys prefer for Portugal? Alfonso or Rodriguez?~

Heracles sat down in the small little black, plush chair near the door (his favorite, mind you, but that's unimportant at the moment) and buried his face in his hands.

Natalia Arlovskaya just shot Lukas Bondevik. Natalia Arlovskaya of the Russian House, sniper, and has almost never missed a target. She was to be feared. Every one of her shots were deadly, and there was a total of three people that had been shot by her that had survived- Sadiq, Maeve Kirkland of the English House, and Gilbert Beilschmidt of the German House. She had a good eye and that was what made her so dangerous.

If Lukas had been shot by her, chances of him living were...

Well, next to impossible.

Heracles tried not to think about the fact that one of his friends- No, not a friend, I'm not allowed to be friends with the house, Heracles tried to tell himself- Had just been shot and would most likely be dead by tomorrow evening.

Instead, he stood up as he heard the door open and shut downstairs. He was expecting company tonight, and he had to be there to enjoy dinner with a few of the Asian House. They had a truce, which, naturally, made the English House their enemies, but the Asian House was still an excellent source for weaponry and technology. Making his way down the steps, Heracles saw three men enter, two shorter than the third.

The first man he recognized instantly as Yao Wang, the Head of the Asian House, dressed neatly in a dark suit, everything about him suggesting no nonsense. The slightly shorter man that stood at his elbow also wore a dark suit, and looked just about as neat- But with shorter hair and dull golden eyes. It was Kiku Honda, heir to the Head of the House and an intelligence officer much like he. The tallest of all of them, Im Yong Soo, had a wild curl and bright eyes, and was their bodyguard for the night- Unlike the other two, his suit was ruffled, jacket open and tie hanging loose around his neck.

"Yao," Heracles said respectively, bowing at the waist, as he knew the older man did not approve of handshakes or much physical contact. The older man just nodded his head slightly stiffly. Kiku, however, offered his hand, so Heracles shook it, and Yong Soo offered him a fist bump. Raising an eyebrow but deciding not to question, the Greek man obliged.

"Mr.Wang," Sadiq said silkily, exiting the living room and greeting the other, "Let's get down to business, shall we?"

~O~O~O~O~O

Lukas opened his eyes groggily and the first thing he saw was the white ceiling of his room followed by flashing black dots that were around the edge of his vision. blinking back the terrible headache that accompanied these lights, he tried to straighten up, but there was too much pain in his left thigh to do so.

"I wouldn't stress yourself at the moment," Said a familiar loud, annoying voice near the doorway, a voice that made Norway's head prickle and throw the head of the Nordic House a venomous look of annoyance.

"Hello, Mathias," he growled through gritted teeth, trying to adjust his leg into a slightly more comfortable position without too much pain. Mathias crossed the room to sit down on the bed next to him, looking concerned.

"Do you know why Natalia would shoot you?" Mathias asked, placing a hand on the other's shoulder. Shrugging it off, Lukas rubbed his hands over his face in an attempt to clear his head and sighed.

"Yes, I would. She would try to shoot me so she can send some kind of warning that the Russian House isn't kidding when they demand a territorial extensions," Lukas glanced down at his leg, "And only a warning, so it's lucky I'm alive."

"That's not good news," Mathias murmured darkly, standing up and crossing his arms, glaring outside the window, "If they're willing to shoot to make their points clear, who knows what could happen next? They could kill Peter or Adhelin."

"Adhelin wouldn't let that happen to Peter," Lukas said automatically. The Dane's sister, Adhelin, was protective over the small child, and her brother, Jan, also wouldn't let that happen.

"But what if anybody gets shot?" Mathias sat back down on the bed, chin balanced on his hand, "We have to let the Russian extend the territory."

"What? Why?" A voice asked sharply from the doorway. The two blonde men looked up to see a darker-haired male standing there with bandages in hand, disapproving look on his face-Their medic, Knut. 

"Well, if they keep shooting to get their point across, I can't risk that," Mathias explained, leaning back onto the wall, but Lukas used his good leg to shove the other male away.

"But do we really need to submit to their demands so soon? What does this say about the Nordic House?" Knut asked roughly, stalking over to Lukas's leg with disinfectant and bandages ready to clean the wound now that he was conscious and able to tell him whether something hurt or not. The male had dark hair and strange violet eyes, similar to the one of Tino's and Emil's.

"Knut, if I don't submit to their demands, then they could be shooting you next," Mathias shot back, glaring at the other male harshly. Knut bowed his head down, glaring at the wound as he bandaged it.

There was one thing Lukas had never got about Mathias- He treated he and his brother, Emil, softly and kindly, but with the others, even his own brother and sister, treated them a bit harsher and rougher. It made him wonder if there was something going on in the Dane's head that he didn't know about.

"Maybe we could wager territory for their cocaine trade," Lukas mumbled, wincing slightly as Knut disinfected the wound and pus and dirt sizzled out, looking absolutely disgusting.

"Cocaine trade? We have enough of that, we need heroin," Knut said absently, concentrating on wrapping the wound. Mathias just shrugged to show he was half-listening, before standing up and stretching.

"I have work to do." he said before exiting the room. As soon as he did, Knut sighed,

"He's an idiot."

"Yeah, I know," Lukas yawned, laying back on the pillow. His leg hurt like absolute fucking hell.

~O~O~O~O~O~O~

Maeve lay in her bed, glaring at the ceiling and twirling a loose lock of red hair, wondering why her uncle had to be such an idiot. Could he not see she was defending him against that Russian bastard?

Of course, Arthur had always been a bit stupid and idiotic....Laughing to herself at this thought, she then felt a great pang of sadness rush through her.

Her twin, Harri, left the English House when she was shot by Natalia Arlovskaya. He wanted her to come with him, but she knew that Natalia would only hunt her down to finish her work- And she couldn't risk putting Harri in danger as well.

Maeve was one to protect her family at all costs- Even Cameron, no matter how much of an idiot he could be. Well, now that she thought about it, they were all idiots...

Except Rhys. She missed Rhys. He had been an awesome guy- Always bringing her and Harri hot chocolate and fried chicken and buying her everything she liked in green, her favorite color.

Then an incident at a marijuana port had brought Arthur to be the Head of the House.

Shaking her head, she lay back down on her bed, when her phone buzzed. Checking her messages, she sat back up and stared at the screen.

No freaking way...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
> 
> Names used~
> 
> Heracles Karpusi- Greece
> 
> Natalia Arlovskaya- Belarus
> 
> Lukas Bondevik- Norway
> 
> Sadiq Adnan- Turkey
> 
> Maeve Kirkland- Ireland (KittyMagicite copyright)
> 
> Gilbert Beilschmidt- Prussia
> 
> Yao Wang- China
> 
> Kiku Honda- Japan
> 
> Im Yong Soo- South Korea
> 
> Matthias Kolher- Denmark
> 
> Adhelin Kolher- Greenland 
> 
> Jan Kolher- Faroe Islands
> 
> Peter Kirkland- Sealand
> 
> Knut Kirkland- Åland Islands
> 
> Tino Vainamoinen- Finland
> 
> Emil Steilsson- Iceland
> 
> Arthur Kirkland- England
> 
> Cameron Kirkland- Scotland
> 
> Harri Kirkland- Northern Ireland
> 
> Rhys Kirkland- Wales (deceased)


	7. Chapter 7

Harri: Can you meet me at the small cafe near the French territory?

It was her twin. Harri Kirkland. After she hadn’t seen him for….She held her hand to her mouth, trying to keep from celebrating out loud in case her Uncle heard. Quietly, Maeve slipped out of bed and put on her boots, carefully treading lightly to not alert anyone downstairs that she was in a rush.

She pulled on her coat and walked out into the hallway, closing her door silently behind her before turning around, only to come face-to-face with Cameron.

“Where ye goin’?” He asked casually, the thick brows that ran in the family drawn together and his green eyes scanning her face. Trying to keep it straight, Maeve said casually,

“Out.”

“Out where?” Cameron pushed, leaning against the wall with his lower body leaning in the opposite direction, crossing his arms and blocking her path.

“To eat,” Maeve said, her gaze not wavering for even a second. Blue eyes met green in an intense staring contest that neither wanted to lose. After a minute, Cameron blinked.

“Where ye gon’ eat?” He asked, straightening up and planting his feet a foot apart, preventing Maeve from dodging to the other side to get past him.

“A restaurant,” Maeve responded curtly.

“What restaurant?”

“One in town.”

“Which one?”

“This town, duh,” Maeve said.

“But where in this town?”

“The part of town where the restaurant is.”

“And which part may this be?”

“Across from another part of town.”

“And what part of town would that be?” Cameron asked, not wavering from this game.

“I couldn’t tell you that,” Maeve said, shrugging her shoulders.

“And why couldn’t you?”

“Because you wouldn’t believe me.”

“And why wouldn’t I?”

“Fine. I’ll tell you. It’s next to another part in town.”

“I give up,” Cameron sighed, stepping aside and allowing her to pass through, “Just don’t get yerself killed, or I’ll have some explaining’ to do to Arthur. That means stay out of pubs, Maeve.”  
“That was once, and it was for Saint Patrick’s Day,” Maeve shot over her shoulder.

“I still had to drag yer ass home!”  
“It’s not my fault I was born on Saint Patrick’s day and last year happened to be my twenty-first birthday.”  
“Yes it is. If ye could have stayed in the womb just a wee bit longer..”  
Flipping him off over her shoulder, Maeve made her way downstairs, when the sliding door that led to the backyard opened and Arthur dragged Alfred in (who, she noted, was dressed in only his underwear). Dodging out of line of view, Maeve opened the front door and slipped quietly outside.

Instead of walking down the pathway that led to the front gate, she ducked into a few bushes, out of line of the watch and concealing her footsteps as best as she could. One guard passed dangerously close to her hiding spot and his elbow caused the bushes to rustle, almost making her fall backwards in surprise.

Creeping inside the line of bushes to the edge of the driveway, she raced along the tall fence, flinching when a flashlight was shined her way but passed right over her. If she was caught sneaking out…

Shaking aside this thought, she reached the corner of the fence and stood on tiptoe to reach up and haul herself up, tumbling over the other side and landing sharply on her bottom.

Knowing she wasn’t in the clear yet, Maeve crouched low and sped across the street, past the line of cars parked outside the mansion, and broke into a run, not stopping until she was in the section of town she needed to be in to meet Harri.

Slowing down her breathing, Maeve scanned the area, only dully noting the throbbing pain in her right hip from where she had been shot. Finally spotting the small little cafe her brother liked to hang around before he left the House, she made her way over to it, where a shaggy-haired red head sat at a small, round cafe table, stirring the straw in his drink.  
Though it was nighttime and the moon shone brightly, the streets were still packed and it took Maeve a lot of shoving and grunting until she finally reached her twin brother, who had the same ginger hair she did, as well as the same brows and blue eyes.

“Hello, brother,” She said from behind him, causing him to jump and spin around in his seat, eyes wide. They stared at each other for a few long moments before he got to his feet and they hugged each other.

Closing her eyes as she pressed her nose into his shoulder, Maeve felt her eyes get wet with tears she held back. Her brother had left them two years ago, and had tried to visit her whenever he could, but the last time they had seen each other was seven months ago, on her birthday in March.

“Hey, Maeve,” Harri said, stepping back and grinning at her. She grinned back and the twins sat down at the table, both taking turns sipping from the hot chocolate Harri had ordered and exchanging stories and catching up on the good times they had missed.

“Why did you ask me to meet you here?” Maeve finally asked after about a half hour, curled into her twin’s warmth against the chilly wind, her green jacket only doing so much to keep her warmed up. Harri’s eyes darkened at once and he said,

“I have something to tell you, Maeve.”

“What?” She asked, looking up at his face.

“The Russians. They’re targeting specific people in every House to bring them down.”

“What?” Maeve asked sharply, straightening up, “What do you mean?”

Harri only handed her a slip of paper with his scrawly writing on it, glancing around.

“I suspect we’ve only got a minute before they find me, so make haste. Look over that note and don’t tell Arthur unless you’ve got to. I’ve already spoken to Roderich, Heracles, and Bella. They’ve promised not to tell. Don’t tell anybody. Just protect the best you can, okay?”

“What? Harri, I don’t-How did you get this information?” Maeve asked, shaking the paper in his face, but he snatched it from her and stuffed it into her jacket pocket, getting to his feet and backing away from her.

It was then she saw two people in the distance- One with dark hair and the other with long, pale hair, one male and the other female-Both from the Russian House.

“Bye,” Harri said, and raced away, dodging through people as he did so. Maeve got to her feet and darted inside a book shop, so the two people would not see her. 

Harri, having left the English House, was always on the run, always escaping from others. You don’t just walk out of a House without consequences.

Pulling out the small piece of crinkled paper, Maeve scanned it and felt her hear hammer with each word.

‘The Russians are targeting the people who would cause most damage emotionally onto the Heads of Houses.

English- Cameron

French- Matthew

Nordic- Lukas

Mediterranean- Emre (?) Might be Heracles

Asian- Kiku

German- Gilbert

Roman- Feliciano.’

Maeve stuffed the piece of paper back in her pocket, eyes wide, but trying not to seem as if she had done anything wrong or was guilty of anything. She ducked out of the bookshop and made her way home, dodging out of line of the flashlights and going the same way she had to the front door- Along the line of bushes.

Once inside the hallway, Maeve allowed the breath she seemed to have been holding the whole way out and made her way upstairs, dimly aware of a pair of booted feet following her until she felt a hand on her shoulder. Turning, she saw Liam staring up at her.

“You okay, Maeve?” He asked, his Australian accent barely distinct, as it had been years since he had moved from Australia into the Family.

“Yes, I’m fine,” She said, shrugging his hand off of her shoulder and walking up to her bedroom door, only for Liam to follow her.

“Maeve,” Liam said, but she was already closing the door.

~O~O~O~O~O~

Gilbert slipped his hands into his pocket, staring ahead as he saw, out of the corner of his eye, Vash following him, eyes alert and scanning the crowd. After a few seconds he managed to get close to him and whispered,

“You know you look totally suspicious, right?”

 

“Shut up,” Vash snapped back. Smirking at his guard’s anger, Gilbert continued to walk until he reached the restaurant his father had told him he would be at. Entering, he murmured “Beilschmidt” and the waitress led the pair to a private table, where Ludwig, Gilbert’s younger brother, and Niklas, their father, sat, with Elizaveta, another guard, stood near the doorway.

“Hello, son,” Niklas said as the two entered. Raising an eyebrow, Gilbert sat down across from his father, leaning back in his seat as he did so and smiling at his younger brother. Ludwig grimaced back and shook his head, training his eyes on the table.

“So what’s up?” Gilbert asked his father as he ordered his drink from the waitress.

“We have something important to discuss,” Niklas said curtly, eyeing the elder sibling as he lounged around in his chair. As if bracing himself to be shouted at, Niklas muttered, “We need to talk about your heir ship.”

“Okay,” Gilbert said, waving his hand and propping his head onto his elbows. Niklas exchanged glances with Vash, who sat at Gilbert’s side, before returning his attention to Gilbert.

“You are no longer heir to the Head of the German House,” Niklas said slowly, icy blue eyes fixed onto the albino’s red ones, “Ludwig is.”

“Okay,” Gilbert replied, shrugging his shoulders and taking the glass from the waitress who had returned with his drink. Picking up his menu, he looked at it and asked, “Seafood, vatti? Really? You know how much I hate seafood?”

“You seem surprisingly calm,” Niklas said, eyes fixed on Gilbert.

“Why shouldn’t I be?”

There was silence before Niklas picked up his own menu and Gilbert glanced up to see Ludwig fiddling with his napkin. He set his menu down and leaned forward.

“The question is, vatti, does Ludwig want to be heir?” Gilbert asked him. Niklas set his menu down at once.

“Of course he does,” He said sharply, “Why wouldn't he?”

“Just wondering,” Gilbert said nonchalantly, shrugging once again and flashing a grin towards his younger blond brother, “How ya feelin’, Luddy?”

“Fine,” Came the muttered response.

“Ya sure?”

“Gilbert,” Vash said from his side. Gilbert rolled his eyes and picked up his menu again. After a while he decided on some sort of weird Cajun shrimp thing. Setting his menu back down, Gilbert looked up at his father before saying.

“So, why the Heir change of all of a sudden?”

“That really is none of your concern,” Niklas sighed, sipping his drink. Gilbert just continued to grin.

“You would think that you would’ve changed Heirs long ago, old man,” Gilbert looked down at his hands that were folded onto his lap, “So why are you changing now?”

Niklas glared at his oldest son and opened his mouth to say something but their waitress arrived to recieve their orders of food. The conversation was forgotten and whrn the meal time was over, Niklas stood up.

“I have to go to meeting with Romonov,” Niklas said, slipping his jacket on. He turned to face Elizaveta and Vash. “I need you to both come with me. Gilbert and Ludwig, I trust you both know how to take care of yourselves?”

“Yeah, vatti,” Gilbert said, opening his jacket to reveal his handgun hidden inside his pocket, “And I know Luddy has his too. We’ll be fine.”

“Right,” Niklas nodded, and the three left. Gilbert looked across the table to his younger brother, who had been for the most part, silent.

“How ya feeling, Luddy?”

 

“Are you mad?” The man asked softly, glancing up. 

“Why would I be?”

“Well, not being heir anymore must suck,” Ludwig said, picking up his glass and peering into it, “I would have thought you would be mad at me.”

Gilbert laughed. “Mein Gott, Ludwig, you think I would be mad at you for this? If anything, I should be mad at our vatti.”

“I’m just concerned that your loyalty to him will diminish,” Ludiwg sighed, glancing up at the elder brother. Gilbert raised a brow before shaking his head.

“Luddy, I have never been loyal to Niklas.”

“What?” Ludwig asked, eyebrows drawing together.

“Since the day you were born, I have only been loyal to you, and I will forever remain loyal to you. A six year old me made a vow to see you through to the end, and now that you’re nineteen, about to be twenty, I think I’ve almost completed that goal,” Gilbert grinned, setting his own drink down.

“You’ve...Only been loyal to me?” Ludwig asked, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Of course. It was never our father that had my loyalty,” Gilbert responded, sipping his drink, “I promise you that, Ludwig.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how Scottish accents work. o.O SO YAY WE GOT THE GERMAN HOUSE :D
> 
> I know you guys be wanting the Roman House...
> 
> But what names do you guys like better for Portugal? Alfonso or Garcia?
> 
> And does anybody actually like this story? QAQ I MUST KNOW
> 
> Names used-
> 
> Maeve Kirkland- Ireland
> 
> Harri Kirkland- Northern Ireland
> 
> Arthur Kirkland- England
> 
> Cameron Kirkland- Scotland
> 
> Roderich Edelstein- Austria
> 
> Heracles Karpusi- Greece
> 
> Bella Anderssen- Belgium
> 
> Matthew Williams- Canada
> 
> Emre Adnan- TRNC
> 
> Lukas Bondevik- Norway
> 
> Kiku Honda- Japan
> 
> Gilbert Beilschmidt- Prussia
> 
> Feliciano Vargas- Italy
> 
> Vash Zwingli- Switzerland
> 
> Niklas Beilschmidt- Germania
> 
> Ludwig Beilschmidt- Germany
> 
> Elizaveta Hedervary- Hungary
> 
> Romonov Vargas- Grandpa Rome


	8. Chapter 8

~Um, what are people from Cyprus called? Cyprussians? Idk XD~

Heracles smoothed his hair back and cast a glance towards Stefan, who was aiming his gun at their target with his eyes narrowed.

"Are you sure you need me here?" Heracles asked boredly,"I mean, I'm pretty sure you can shoot Alfred with ease."

"Your flattery makes me blush," Stefan said sarcastically, his finger hovering steadily over the trigger as he closed one eye shut. 

"I try Stefan, I really do," Heracles said, leaning against him as he felt a nap coming on, "In fact, I need to catch a few z's."

"That's not trying, and please get off of me, I'll be shooting his head instead of his shoulder if you keep doing that," Stefan said darkly.

"What's the point of this again?"

"I don't know, but we don't question Sadiq."

"Whatever," Heracles yawned, "I'll have a better chance of going out with Adhelin Kølher than I do of shooting Alfred Jones."

"Which is exactly why we are going to shoot Alfred as a warning to Arthur," Stefan whispered back, and without further ado, pressed his finger onto the trigger. There was a ringing yelp and the two dodged into a line of bushes, fleeing in case the English Bodyguard, Cameron, came after them.

"See!" Heracles shouted as they barrelled down an alleyway and leaped onto a large trash can that was five feet below a set of rails that would lead them to the window of a safe haven, "You CAN shoot people without me!"

"Ah, well, it seems I can," Stefan said, rolling his eyes as he held out two hands for the Greek man to step on them so he could reach the top of the trashcan better, "I more just need you as a shield for when Cameron Kirkland shoots at me."

"Nice to know, dear friend," Heracles muttered as he tested his weight on the trashcan and when it did not creak, threw an arm out for the Cyprussian to grab onto. Hauling the short man onto the trash can, Heracles lifted Stefan by the waist so he could grasp the rails of the railing and push himself up.

As soon as he did, there was a shout and a shot was fired, narrowly missing Heracles. Throwing an arm up to grab onto the rail, Heracles used all the gymnastics training Sadiq has ever forced him to do and pulled himself onto it, back rolling over the rail and flipping onto the porch of some random person's home.

"Excellent, now, we get the hell out of here!" Stefan shouted, and they thundered up the stairs, and in the alley they could see a shock of red hair and faintly smell cigar smoke. The fires continued to shoot but none of them hit the two men, but one did come dangerously close to taking out Stefan.

They reached the roof of the building and looked over at the next one, before glancing at each other.

"I think roof hopping is really our only option at this point," Heracles sighed.

"Do we have to?" Stefan groaned, but they began to race towards the edge, and when they did reach it, they took a mighty leap.

Time seemed to speed up faster than it should be rather than slow down like it had been in the movies and the next thing Heracles knew his feet hit the ground roughly and he fell over onto his back.

"Excellent," Stefan coughed, who was also on his back and lying opposite of Heracles, "Now we just need to do that again and again until we find a place to be in safely."  
"I think we're safe on this roof," Heracles groaned, but sat up anyways, brushing a few stones from his brown locks.

"If we're not, I'll sue you," Stefan said.

"I'm broke, man," Heracles said. The two burst into laughter, and when they calmed down, they got to their feet, stretching and intent on going back to the House. As soon as they left the roof, however, Heracles was tackled to the ground by some unseen force.

"Eh-whaaaaaat," He groaned, and a knife was suddenly pressed to his neck. He heard the muffled groans of Stefan being tackled as well, and the sound of him being tossed roughly through the ground. He caught a glimpse of long, silvery hair and looked up to see the icy blue eyes of Adhelin Kølher.

"You're gonna come with me," She hissed, "And you're gonna do it quietly."

\-------

(Two months ago)

Lovino shot at the target multiple times, each shot hitting the center with expertise that wowed others. He was so focused on his work that he didn't notice his younger brother enter the room until a voice said behind him,

"Fratello?"

Lovino paused and lowered his left hand, which clutched his gun, and looked back to see his younger brother, who stood there with his hands behind his back, eyes wide.  
"What?"

"Grandfather would like to see you."

Sighing, Lovino placed the gun in it's holster around his waist and nodded at his younger brother, making his way up the stairs and onto the ground floor. There he saw Bella rush in, looking concerned.

"What?" He asked, but she pushed past him and towards her brother Lars, whispering something in his ear. He nodded before walking ahead and casting Lovino a glance. Lovino raised an eyebrow but walked up the stairs when he slammed into his younger brother Lucius.

"Sorry, fratello," Lucius said, smiling at him, "I was just going down to the kitchen."

"Well make haste, I have to see Grandfather," Lovino said back.

The eldest of the Vargas brothers made his way to the office of their Grandfather, Romonov Vargas, before knocking carefully on the door. After a minute, a cheerful 'come in' was heard from inside. Lovino stepped inside, eyes fixing on his cheerful grandfather.He had always been rather cheerful, not too serious for the Head of the Roman House, and had hardly every appeared angry. To the Vargas siblings, at least.

"Lovino!" Romonov said, smiling and waving his eldest grandson in. Lovino stepped inside, raising an eyebrow, but choosing not to say anything. After a moment, Romonov said,

"I have important business to discuss with you."

Lovino still said nothing, waiting for his grandfather to continue on, and he did.

"We need to discuss the heir of the Roman House."

"Feliciano," Lovino said automatically. Romonov stared at him for a long while. After a moment Romonov said,

"Feliciano?...Lovino, I was talking about you."

"I don't want to be heir," Lovino said, eyes training on his father's, a note of seriousness in his voice, "I don't want to be the heir of the Roman Household, Grandfather."  
Romonov stiffened slightly before sliding into his seat, asking,

"Why not?"

"My duty lies in the protection of the Head, not being the Head," Lovino said, his eyes still trained on the elder man, "I have been trained in the use of a gun ever since I was four years old. It was how I was raised. I always believed Feliciano to be the Heir."

"You can still be the Head," Romonov said, amber eyes staring, "We need a Head that is strong."

"Feliciano is strong," Lovino said, sitting down opposite of his Grandfather, "And he will bring more order to the House, and will be less likely to bring it into war than I would."

Romonov gave the oldest of all the Vargas brothers a long, searching look before saying,

"What if I said Lucius?"

"Lucius would not be my first choice," Lovino sighed, crossing his arms. He actually couldn't believe he was having this conversation with his Grandfather, "Lucius has always shown a preference in being an intelligence officer."

"But Bella is our intelligence officer," Romonov argued.

"Grandfather, how long will Bella last? You are nearing sixty-You have lived the longest of any people from the Roman House. Most don't make it to forty."

"Don't be so negative."

"I am not being negative, I am speaking the truth," Lovino said, fighting down his hot-headedness in the company of his Grandfather, "And the truth is that Feliciano should be the Heir."

"That's an opinion."

"It's fact."

"No, Lovino, it's an opinion," Romonov said, sitting forward, "I would have thought you would be happy to be the Head."

"Leadership was never my thing."

"Make it your thing."

Lovino threw his hands into the air, patience wearing thin. "No."

"yes."

"No."

"I am declaring you the official Heir to the Roman House."

"Then I will run away."

"Don't."

"I swear I will, grandfather."

Romonov gave him a long, calculating look before saying, "There's always Antonio. Or Alfonso."

"Then I will shott hem if you consider them Head," Lovino said lightly. Romonov raised an eyebrow before saying,

"Well, you seem intent on making Feliciano the Head. Do you promise to stay loyal?"

"Of course, grandfather. Loyalty to the Roman House is all I've ever known."

"I don't mean loyal to the House," Romonov said slowly, leaning back in his chair, eyes glued to Lovino's face, "I mean loyal to Feliciano."

Lovino stared at his grandfather."Excuse me?"

"Do you promise to stay loyal to Feliciano?"

"...I don't know what you mean."

"When I die," Romonov sighed, shifting slightly in his seat, "There might be a rebellion. They will be expecting you, the oldest of my grandsons, to take the lead. They might be unpleasantly surprised to find out that Feliciano, the youngest, is in fact that heir. People might rise against him. Do you promise to stay loyal to Feliciano even if that happens?"

Lovino stared at him for a long time, contemplating the issue. Finally, he nodded and said, 

"I do."

After this little meeting, Lovino exited the office, stretching from having sat down for awhile and bumped into Alfonso, Antonio's younger brother.

"Hello," Alfonso said dully.

"What, idiota?" Lovino asked, dropping the polite atmosphere he had used around his Grandfather.

"Nothing. Just passing on a message that Feliciano went out. Again."

"Dammit," Lovino cursed. He raced downstairs, mentally abusing the youngest of the Vargas brothers for leaving the House after nine o'clock. It was a rule-Potential heirs were not allowed out of the House without protection after nine. Feliciano had not contacted Lovino, nor, by the looks of it, Lars, who was also a guard.

"Bella," Lovino said when he passed her, "Do you know where Feliciano went?"

"No," She said, eyes wide. Sighing, Lovino exited the House and took off into the night.

\--------

Leon sat down across from his elder brother Yao, who glared at him, eyes searching his before he hissed,

"What do you mean you have an affair with him?"

"Like I said. It was, like, only a month ago that we, like, started dating," Leon said, shrugging his shoulders carelessly.

"You...You say this like it doesn't matter," Yao said, face white with fury as he glared at the youngest in the Asian House, "And...You put us at stake, aru?"

"It's not like we're swapping secrets," Leon said, sighing and tapping his fingers against the arm of his chair.

"No, but you could come close to," Yao said, fingering his long ponytail and glancing towards Kiku, who sat down next to Leon, "What is your opinion on this, aru?"

"Well....Uh, as l-long as he's not...Er, swapping secrets?" Kiku said, surprised at being addressed for this matter, "I honestly d-don't know."

"Hmm," Yao grumbled, staring at Leon, "I forbid you from ever visiting him again, Leon."

"Okay," Leon said, already planning ways he could meet him in private in his mind without Yao ever figuring it out. Yao glared at him before getting to his feet and walking away. Leon closed his eyes and wondered what made him think it was a good idea tot ell Yao about Emil.

"You're...You're not swapping secrets, are you?" Kiku asked after a moment of silence. Leon looked up sharply.

"Of course not."

"Sorry, just making sure."

\-------

The heir of the Nordic House had never felt so much pain in his life. Lukas twisted and turned all that night in discomfort, pain shooting up his leg and moaning and groaning, expressing every stabbing prick by banging his fist against the wall.

By morning time he was drenched in sweat and wished he could just saw his leg right off, but when Matthias peeked his head in, he pretended like it was nothing.  
"It doesn't hurt," Lukas said, blinking away the tears that had formed in his eyes, "I swear, it doesn't."

"Lukas, you've been alive for twenty years. I've been alive for twenty-six. I've been Head of the House since I was seventeen. You've been an intelligence officer since you were eighteen. I have more experience.I know when someone is lying to me," Matthias said seriously.

"I'm an intelligence officer. I know when someone is lying to me," Lukas said, glaring in his direction.

"You're also Heir to the House, so you need to tell Knut when your leg is hurting so he can heal it and the future Head of the House won't have a bum leg when it's his time to rule," Matthias said back.

"If it comes to that, just make Emil the freaking heir, I don't care," Lukas said, pressing his pillow to his face and groaning into it, "or betteryet, make Adhelin or Jan heir. And when Kjetil hits sixteen next year, he's a valid option as well."

"Lukas, you're my Heir because I trust you," Matthias said, staring at the Norwegian with his brows furrowed, "And I don't really want to make anybody else my Heir."

"Not even Berwald?" Lukas asked, grinning sarcastically.

"Especially not Berwald."

"Peter?"

"Hell no."

"Knut."

"I am a medicine man and a medicine man only," Knut said, entering the room from behind Matthias. Matthias pointed at him.

"You see?"

"Ugh, whatever," Lukas groaned as Knut began to treat the wound, "Do me a favor and ask Tino to shoot Natalia in the ass."

"I think doing so would declare war on the Russian House," Knut said wisely, unwrapping the soiled bandages and pulling out new ones, "Just think of all the shit that'll go flying if I were to ask Tino to shoot Natalia in the ass. Yekaterina and Ivan probably won't like that."

"Who cares?" Mathias asked from the doorway, cocking his head to the side, "They shot one of my people and they're gonna pay for it."

"I admire that in you," Knut said, glancing up, "But you have to think about the House before you make rash decisions like that."

"I do think about the House; that's all I ever do," Mathias said sharply, rolling his eyes as he did so. Lukas flinched slightly as Knut pressed his fingers lightly to the bulletwound.

"It shouldn't effect, but try not to walk for a few days," Knut said, glancing up at the Norwegian.

"But I have a meeting with Roderich tomorrow for information exchange," Lukas said, eyes widening as he tried to push himself into a sitting position using his elbows, "And I'm suppose to accompany Emil and Kjetil to the docks to meet Yong Soo and Ping for a cyanide trade."

"Kjetil can go in place for you when you meet Roderich, he's training to be an intelligence officer anyways," Knut said before Mathias could open his mouth.

"I'm leaving," Mathias said roughly, and turned away, stomping out of the room. The dark-haired man hailing from Faore Islands and the blond Norwegian exchanged raised eyebrows but said nothing more.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
BOOM! Yay, you guys got your Roman House...Which, for some reason, you guys have been wanting them for some reason...You guys want the sexy Italian Mafia action, don't ya?

Sadly though, this book is a bit more centered on the Mediterranean House than the other Houses. BUT DON'T WORRY! You still get their love~

Next chapter: Enter Russia.

~Names used~

Heracles Karpusi-Greece  
Stefan Karpusi- Cyprus  
Alfred F. Jones-America  
Adhelin Kølher- Greenland  
Cameron Kirkland-Scotland  
Lovino Vargas- South Italy/Romano  
Feliciano Vargas- North Italy/Veneziano  
Romonov Vargas- Grandpa Rome  
Bella Anderssen-Belgium  
Lars Anderssen-Netherlands  
Lucius Vargas-Seborga  
Antonio Carriedo-Spain  
Alfonso Carriedo-Portugal  
Leon Wang-Hong Kong  
Yao Wang-China  
Kiku Honda-Japan  
Emil Steilsson-Iceland  
Lukas Bondevik-Norway  
Matthias Kølher-Denmark  
Knut Norgaard-Aland Islands  
Jan Kølher-Faroe Islands  
Kjetil Bondevik-Havmann Island (Norway)  
Berwald Oxensterina-Sweden  
Peter Kirkland-Sealand  
Tino Vainamoinen-Finland  
Natalia Arlovskaya-Belarus  
Ivan Braginsky-Russia  
Yekaterina Braginskaya-Ukraine  
Roderich Edelstein-Austria  
Im Yong Soo-South Korea  
Ping Wang-Macau


	9. Chapter Nine

I remember when, I remember, I remember when I lost my mind

There was something so pleasant about that place

The balloon burned over the burning flame and Toris stared down at it for a long while, watching the flame flicker as the drug melted. After a few moments he measured the right amount in the needle, a strip of stretchy material wrapped around his upper left arm and making his veins pop. Toris let the air out of the syringe, watching the bubbles rising to the top, before placing the tip of the needle carefully on a vein. 

Even your emotions had an echo

In so much space

He injected it into his bloodstream. The heroin blew right through him wildly, and the affect was immediate, and his emotions seemed to dissapitate. There was a steady knock on the bathroom door. Raivis probably needed to use the bathroom.

And when you're out there

Without care

"Hurry up, some of us need to use the bathroom!"

"One moment," Toris said, and though he meant it to come out quietly and steadily, it came out slightly shaky and higher pitched. The drug had that affect on him.

Yeah, I was out of touch

But it wasn't because I didn't know enough

"Turn off your damn music!" It was Eduard's voice this time. Toris let out a low grow, loud enough for the other two to hear but hopefully not to reach Ivan or Natalia's ears as he blew out the candle and threw it under the sink, shoving everything hastily in his bag.

I just knew too much. 

The drug was extremely fast-acting, and as he slung the bag over his shoulder, once again giving Raivis a piss-poor excuse for why he had it, he already felt the smile creeping onto his face, feeling all his troubles sink away. Ivan brushed past him and there was a moment in which the Russian's eyes flashed, but then it was gone and Toris felt giddily light. But he wasn't a newbie to this experience.

Does that make me crazy?

Does that make me crazy?

Does that make me crazy?

Probably.

The others had grown to used to his habit of playing music while he was in the bathroom. His excuse was he had terrible stomach pains and the music got his mind off of them. A shit excuse, but whatever. He was on top of the world right now. Toris cast a glance to Feliks, who smiled up at him as he cleaned his guns, back to the TV which was displaying the news behind him. Toris had taken a healthy enough amount for him to decipher what the words were saying and what language the reporters were speaking (why someone had put it on the Spanish channel, he didn't know) yet the words blurred slightly.

"How are you, Feliks?" Toris asked easily, leaning against the couch, no tense at all in his shoulders. Feliks grinned up at him with that sly dog smile.

"I don't know what, like, has gotten into you lately, Liet, but you're totally so much fun right now. Like, I'm cleaning my guns."

As long as he didn't overdose or take too much, the others would never suspect anything. He was in control.

Come on now, who do you, who do you, who do you, who do you think you are,

Ha ha ha bless your soul

You really think you're in control

"Can I join you?" Toris asked, sliding down to the floor next to Feliks, and, without asking, grabbed an old .42 that had definitely seen better days and grabbed a cleaning rag. The drug took his worries away oh how in love he was with the effects of heroin everything just went away why couldn't he feel this everyday why did Ivan ban everything he loved why why why why...

It was usually on drugs that Toris remembered every person he's ever killed. He hated doing it at first, but it was kill or be killed, in the Russian House. That's why he started nicking the drug supply. First it was light stuff, like amphetamines and Xanax. Slowly it turned into Oxy and then heroin. It made killing so much easier, and there was lots of that in the Russian House. 

Many candidates.

Well, I think you're crazy

I think you're crazy

I think you're crazy

Just like me

Toris's most recent memory was when he was on amphetamines last week, and he was having an easy conversation with a cab driver as he sat in the passenger's seat, relaxed. The next thing the cabbie was coughing on his own blood. And he fucking smiled. But it made everything easier and it made Ivan happy, and, truth be told, Toris was terrified of Ivan.

And I hope that-

Good. Finally someone turned off the goddamn music. It was giving his drug-induced brain a headache. Toris followed along with Feliks's speech until he set the gun he had been cleaning and wandered off into the kitchen. He didn't have a goal. He just liked to be around in the kitchen.

Eduard was sitting at the table and glaring at the screen, glasses glinting in the light.

"Toris, are you okay? You have been acting differently."

The easy smile was still on his face.

"Of course I am."

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"I like that Maeve girl," Ivan said to himself quietly as he glanced at Natalia out of the corner of his eye. She was making him slightly uneasy by the way she was standing near the door, shoulders tensed, looking ready to rip apart anybody that dare enter the room.

"I had a nice time shooting her," Natalia said in her flat voice, "Though I suppose she is strong. Why? Are your romantically interested in her, brother?"

"Of course not," Ivan smirked, glancing up at a picture hanging high of him, Yekaterina, and Natalia all sitting stiff and posed for the camera while their mother displayed a slightly chilling smile behind them, "She just...Caught my eye as a troublemaker earlier."

"That she is," Natalia smirked. Ivan traced his fingertips along the bookcase as he walked to his desk slowly and reached down to pick up his most favored gun, and he turned it over in his hands, his mind racing a million miles per hour. There were many things on the Russian House's leader's mind right now, and this Maeve girl was one of them. She looked troubling. And she sassed him. One does not simply sass Ivan Braginsky.

"I want her," Ivan said simply, setting the gun down on the desk and watched Natalia's shoulders tense before he added, "Dead."

Her shoulders relaxed.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~**~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Sadiq Adnan was many things, but a fool was not one of those things. As he paced his office at approximately half past nine that night, boots thudding, and yet Heracles and Stefan had not yet returned, he knew they were not out to simply party, as Emre suggested, and knew something was up. But he still waited. But not too long. Just until the clock ticked ten.

That was when he told Gupta to gather the other body guards and start a search party. Instantly. Emre insisted on accompanying them, but Sadiq placed a hand forcefully on his shoulder, glaring down at the shorter male.

"Not today," Was all he said, and that was enough to make the kid's face fall. Sadiq watched as the bodyguards-Gupta he knew but the other three he could care less-gathered guns and Gupta made several calls to allies and sources. Heracles and Stefan had not been seen in the past twelve hours.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

"To be honest, this truck smells like shit," Heracles told Stefan conversationally, whom he felt was to his right. The whole truck ride had been bumpy and uncomfortable, and he was very vulnerable with this fucking blindfold on, but whatever. He's been in worse situations. And he knew, despite how much Sadiq claimed to hate him, the Turk was probably looking for him right now.

"Oh, shut your mouth," Stefan said wearily back. He wasn't nearly as calm as Heracles. The unknown guest in the back of the truck with them chuckled and mutter something about being typical.

"Wanna run that by me again, sweetheart?" Heracles asked, angling his head in the direction of the feminine voice. Despite his easy tone, Heracles was seriously pissed right now. He had been expecting pita bread for dinner, goddammit.

"I just said typical of you Mediterraneans." The woman replied. Heracles raised an eyebrow.

"Wanna know what else is typical? Me and my car. I've got an excellent backseat. Nice and soft. Good for sex. You and me, baby?"

"Are you flirting with me?" The voice was coldly playful. Dangerously slick. But far from striking fear into Heracles, as it would anybody else, Heracles was raised in a mafia and trained for this. The fear didn't strike him, because he was one of these dangerous people.

"Heracles, shut your pile hole. You're not helping me," Stefan whined. Heracles smiled in the general direction of somewhere between the both of them and wriggled his wrists. He was almost lose. He'd been working on this for the past four and a half hours. He didn't know where they were, but his guess was well out of town by now.

"Hey, baby. You mind telling me where we're at?"

"You're a terrible flirt," The woman said.

"Well flirting with women isn't really my thing, sugar honey ice tea."

"Clever disguise for calling me shit."

"Thank you."

Something struck his face and Heracles felt an angry welt form from where her hand hit him. Chuckling, Heracles felt the rope loosen around his wrists and fall away, but he kept his hands behind his back. He would wait for an opening.

Hearing Stefan whine uneasily next to him, Heracles hoped that opening would come soon.

~*~***************************

HOLY SHIT IT'S BEEN A WHILE. Sorry guys. MY BAD! IT WON'T HAPPEN AGAIN TO THIS STORY!


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